


Firecracker

by FuckingHateCheese



Series: Who's Programming Who? [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: :/, F/M, Period Sex, cranky reader, i cant quiet nail connor's voice rn which sucks, kind of lackluster in comparison to my first fic on this fandom, might delete later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15438042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckingHateCheese/pseuds/FuckingHateCheese
Summary: What happens when an Android's owner is crabby?





	Firecracker

**Author's Note:**

> Not really feeling this one tbh, might delete unless y'all like it

You feel the rolling pains before you're even fully awake, and sure enough, after a painful waddle to the bathroom and a loud series of curses, the whole household is aware: you've started your period.

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you continue grousing even after laying on your back with a heated pad underneath you, Connor in the armchair next to your couch. He quirks an eyebrow at your language, but otherwise doesn't comment.

 

"Would you like me to dim the lights? Perhaps their intensity is exacerbating your condition." 

 

The offer is sweet, you know it is, but something about it, you don't know what- the lack of inflection in his voice, the quiet humming of his LED as he observes you- has you gritting your teeth and throwing a fist over your eyes. But it's not fair to be rude to him when he's only trying to be polite, so you instead you say, "Sure, go ahead."

He moves to adjust the brightness of the overhead light when your cellphone rings shrilly next to you. You're not above hissing at it, and are fully prepared to let it go to voicemail- except Connor has already answered it with his weird android programming. 

 

"This is the Android that lives at the residency 4532 Watergrove lane. No, I'm afraid she isn't feeling well at the moment. Yes, I'll let her know that you called to check in. Of course, ma'am. Yes. Goodbye, then." 

You already know that whatever answer he's going to give will piss you off to no end, but you push the question past your lips anyway: "Who was that?"

 

"It was a friend of yours. She wanted to know if you were well enough to accompany her to the bar later on this evening."

 

You clench and unclench your fists slowly; God, you'd give anything to still have that stress ball you bought a few weeks ago. Of course, you could ask Connor to go find it for you- and he'd probably find it without you asking, and just place it somewhere you'd see it- but you weren't in the mood to ask him to do anything but to go to Hell.

 

"I could have told her myself,  _Connor_ ," you snap, folding in on yourself into the corner of the couch. He raises his eyebrows at you- petulantly? 

"Do you want me to call her back, then?"

 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself as you let your eyes slide shut. There's no need to be a bitch when you don't have to be. Connor presses on.

 

"I could call your employer as well, so that you can personally inform him that you aren't well, either, if it pleases you. I could also unplug your heating pad so that you could have the satisfaction of plugging it in yourself, too."

 

Ok.  _Now_ you can be a bitch.

 

"Can you piss the fuck off? Like, you don't have to be here right now. It's bad enough that you follow me around like a shadow all over the house- I don't need to see your face all damn day! And especially when you say pissy things like just now. Go- go charge your batteries or something, I don't know. Just get away.  _Damn_." 

 

Connor circles back to you, sitting on the couch. "Charging will not be required for the next... 127 hours, seeing as you made sure to do so last night." 

He's enjoying goading you, you realize with an irritated huff. You make an effort to turn yourself to face him.

 

"I'm going to throw you in a bathtub, Connor, and then we'll see how smart you are," you say in your sweetest voice, giving him a nasty smile.

 

His returning smile is cordial, but it still ignites a fury in you that makes you wish you had something large and weighted to throw at the wall- something that would make a loud noise; something to make him jump.

 

"Did you forget that I am waterproof? And alternatively, even if I weren't, the resulting electrocution would not hurt me as I do not feel pain." 

It's not even funny anymore- you're on your feet in an instant, staring down at him, fuming when you see that he is the picture of ease. 

"You're such a goddamn... piece of shit sometimes, I swear!"

He stares blankly at you for a minute, his LED whirring and flashing yellow , and you hope he's thinking about how he was wrong- even if he wasn't, the guilty part of your mind nags at you.

 

"Serotonin," he finally says finally, and you're confused enough with that statement that you quietly listen to whatever he has to say. "During a woman's menstrual cycle, the levels of serotonin in the brain can severely decrease, causing irritability and a shorter temper. Perhaps that's been what's been causing you such trouble." 

 

You feel your eyelid twitch.

 

" _Are you saying that it's because I'm on my period_?" you hiss at him, bringing your face close to his, your noses almost touching. 

He turns to face you fully. "Yes. That's the gist of my statement, precisely."

 

You raise your hand, to shake him by the shoulder, to slap him- but he's wrapped his hand around your wrist and in a second, you're back on the couch with him, your head nearly on the armrest. 

 

"However, I also know that other hormones can be used to combat the negative effects of a serotonin deficiency." He runs the back of his hand down your cheek.

"Oxytocin, for one, can result in a calmer demeanor. Vasopressin." 

 

You're still fuming when he pulls you closer to him, hand making its way to the small of your back. "What the hell is your  _problem_? Does it look like I'm in the mood for that?" and you push him away, storming off to your room and taking a grim satisfaction in slamming the door hard enough that it rattles on its frame.

 

On your bed, it's lonely; you forgot your phone in the living room, so you can't text any of your friends, and your laptop is buried somewhere underneath your bed, and you doubt that you can go get it without feeling like you'er being ripped in half. Sighing in annoyance, you let your eyes slide shut, and drift off.

 

Waking up on your bed isn't nearly as comfortable without the company of your heating pad- the only piece of technology that isn't making you want to commit various violent acts. The sudden cramping only makes you more angry when your mind drifts to the thought of your android, and how annoying he'd been today- why was it even in  his programming to be that irritating? You don't know what the fuck Connor's problem is- but you guess that you're about to find out; he's knocking on your door right now.

 

You consider making him stand there for a long while so he can think about what he did, but then decide against it. "You can come in, but only if you have the heating pad," you call out to him, and you soften slightly at the sight before you when he opens the door: he's already brought it with him.

 

"Aw, God. Come here," you mutter to him. He walks to your bed and sets the pad down. "Do you want me to plug this in?" he asks you.

You ignore him, instead pulling him down into an embrace, burrowing your face into his chest. He starts patting your back, gently and carefully, and then you can't help it- you start bawling, ugly tears making their way down your face and staining the fabric of Connor's shirt dark. You want to tell him that you're sorry, that you know he only did all that overbearing stuff because he was trying to make things easier for you, in his own way- but you can only sob hideously into his lapels, arms clinging desperately to his figure.

 

" It wasn't my intention to antagonize you so severely- I shouldn't have brought you to this level of distress," he murmurs into your hair, and as much as you hate to admit that he might be right about sex calming you down, you can't deny the familiar ball of warmth that's only growing at the way he's stroking you, at the deep tenor of his voice.

 

"Connor..." you whisper, snivelling into his shirt, trying to hold him closer.

 

There's no way that he can mistake the need in your voice, but still he continues holding you in that same way, his hands never straying lower than your shoulder blades. You meld yourself onto him, moving into his lap. 

"Connor," you try again, holding his face in your hands. "Yes?" 

" I think... Earlier... you were trying to tell me about hormones and what they made me feel..."

"Did you want a further explanation?" he asks you, deceptively innocent, but you know that he's more than aware of what you want from him. Damn him for dragging this out- for drawing the need out of you like water from a well. It should be illegal for someone to be able to tune and play your body and emotions as fluently as he is right now, especially with the minimal effort he's expending.

You swallow your frustrations. "Yeah. Tell me more." You shift in his lap, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but he stays just as stoic as he was to begin with.

 

"Oxytocin is a chemical that... ah..." and you smile, because your constant writhing and shifting has finally gotten to him; the apples of his cheeks tinged pink as a beginning sunrise. 

"Are you sure that you're comfortable?" he asks you, a pinched tone to his voice, you notice with glee. "You are shifting quite a bit. If your cramps are painful to that degree, I could-" 

 

"I'm fine; keep talking to me." you press him, laying him onto your bed. 

 

"If you insist, then," he concedes, his erection forming underneath his slacks.

 

"Oxytocin is primarily released during the height of sex- when I bring you to orgasm- make you come-, a flood of oxytocin cancels out the adverse emotions you feel due to the decrease of serotonin." he explains to you, trying his hardest not to succumb to the sensation of your body on his. You lean down to press your lips to his neck, and lick a stripe up the length of it, relishing the way he shudders and swallows.

"When I implied that sexual release is what it would take to restore you to your previous state, you were highly displeased. What's changed?" he asks you, breath catching when you nip at his skin. "I guess I just have different intentions now," you tell him blithely, wanting nothing more than to shimmy out of your panties and to feel him sink into you.

"Is your intention to drive me to lose my composure?" he asks you hoarsely, when you take off your shirt and fling it to the ground, pressing your breasts into him. "I dunno," you answer, bringing his hands to touch them, biting your lip when he fondles them gently. "is it working?"

 

"Well, he answers you, licking his lips, "what does 'working' mean to you? A term like that is highly subjective." 

 

You've had enough of this game of cat and mouse, you decide; you move your hands to his zipper and palm the tent his cock has made against it, straining to be freed. You oblige immediately, the sight of it almost making you drool. Oh, yes- it had been completely worth going back on what you'd said earlier if it meant that he'd be buried inside you tonight, rocking his hips into you until you couldn't remember why you were so pissed to begin with.

 

"Do you desire me? Do you want me to fold you into myself and take you?" he asks, gaze locked on yours. You pull your panties to the side, bloodstains be damned. They were already ruined beyond repair; one more romp wouldn't make a difference. "Oh, Connor," you breathe, before seating yourself onto him, "you really gotta learn how to talk like a normal person, babe."

 

"But surely you know how to program my speech patterns into something less formal- if you'd wanted something normal, you would have gotten it by now. If you- ah!- wanted a human man, you wouldn't be sitting astride  _me_. You like my pattern of speech. You _like_  knowing- ooh- that you're copulating with someone that isn't quite human."

His hands fly to your waist, pulling you onto his cock, and you can't help but sigh in satisfaction at the feeling of him inside you, deeper and deeper until he's all the way in, his head resting just above your cervix. 

"Is this what you wanted the whole time?" he asks you, bringing a hand to your face, smiling when you lean into his touch. "You only have to make your need known, and I'll come to you. There's no need to make such a fuss." 

You rock against him, his quiet moans spurring you on further, until you're sharply bucking into him, the sounds he's letting out making you weak. "Has anything ever been that easy with me?" you ask him, leaning down to kiss him hard. He tangles his hand in your hair, other hand on your hip to gain the leverage he needs to thrust up into you, grinding when he's hilted completely. 

 

The moans he's making you release bring an embarrassed flush to your face, and he cups your face again for the fourth time this evening, stuttering groans leaving his perfect mouth as you ride him mercilessly.

 

"You're right," you tell him, "I don't want a normal voice. I want the way you talk; I want to hear what it sounds like when I make you come, in your words, the way that comes to  _your_  mind. I want you, Connor. Tell me how it feels to be inside me this deep. Tell me- oh!- tell me that it's the best thing you've ever felt, baby."

 

He looks up at you reverently, mouth agape in pleasure before he gets his bearings. "You- you feel hot. Warm, alive. Being intimate with you- watching you- mm!- fuck yourself onto me like this-" 

"What's it feel like, baby?"

"Ah!"

" _Tell me_!" you keen desperately.

"There aren't words for this. Pure sensation is- there's no vocal equivalent for the way you look and sound, and feel when you're intertwined with me like this. I can't..."

 

The look on his face is enough to bring you over the edge, and you dig your nails into his chest as you come, tightening around him until he lets out a drawn out moan and looks you in your eyes and whispers, "I won't be able to last much longer; inside or out?"

You kiss him in answer, rolling your hips through your own afterglow until he pulls you onto him once, twice, three times- and groans in your ear.

 

You sit up to see his face, and giggle at how ravished he looks; you kissed him breathless and it shows, in his blood red lips, and the wild gleam in his eyes. His LED is flashing and whirring at light speed, and you give it a kiss as well before settling beside him. 

 

"Hey, Connor?" you say.

"Yes?"

"You know you're doing the laundry, right?"

He doesn't groan in complaint, but you feel like somewhere inside him, he's loudly protesting being on laundry duty. You smile, amused.

**Author's Note:**

> i do requests, too just fyi


End file.
